Sardines
by Spinning-In-Infinity
Summary: Fred and Lucy were friends at Hogwarts. Could they become MORE than friends playing a Muggle party game? Lemony goodness will surely ensue! No Mary-Sues here.


**Sardines**

_**Author's Note:**__ (*Warning! Here be spoilers!*) Just a little slightly smutty fic I came up with while watching The Goblet of Fire. Set six months after The Deathly Hallows with just one minor alteration – FRED LIVES! HE NEVER DIED! I refused to acknowledge it then and I refuse to acknowledge it now! Features Fred/OC, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny & George/Angelina. _

As I cross the road that runs alongside the long line of tall houses, I check to see there are no Muggles to see me and whisper, "Number 12 Grimmauld Place." The two houses in front of me part to reveal the magically hidden building. Six months ago – after Voldemort was destroyed – Harry moved into 12 Grimmauld Place when he landed a job in the Auror Office. Mrs Weasley had offered him a place to live at The Burrow, but it was easier for him to get to work every day from the old Black residence. Since Ron had started working in the Diagon Alley branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes – the business had also advanced to Hogsmeade, where Fred and George were now stationed – he'd also moved in, while Hermione had gone back to Hogwarts to complete her N.E.W.T.s – in which nobody doubted she would achieve strange O's. The three of them all visit The Burrow every weekend, as Ron can't go for a week without Mrs Weasley's cooking, and Harry can't go for a week without seeing Ginny – who incidentally had been talent-scouted for the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team.

I knock on the heavy wooden door and wait for somebody to answer. It's just started to snow and I breathe into my hands to keep them warm. Hopefully the snow will stay until Christmas next week. The door opens and I'm greeted by the delicious smell of food, the sound of music and people laughing, and a rather red-faced Hermione. Since it was the Christmas holidays, both she and Ginny had come to stay with Harry and Ron.

"Hi, Lucy," she said, stepping aside to let me through. "You alright?"

"Yeah, thanks," I say, taking off my scarf and shaking the snow from my shoulders. "What've I missed?"

"Oh. . ." she blushes. "We were just. . . playing Spin the Bottle."

"Ahh," I smirk. "And by the hoots I can hear and your embarrassment, I'm guessing you had to kiss. . . Ginny?"

She goes scarlet in the face and hurries back into the living-room. I laugh and, after hanging my coat up in the hallway, follow her. Everyone – that being Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, Luna, Neville and Angelina – is sitting in a circle on the carpet in front of the fire, an empty butterbeer bottle in the middle. Hermione sits down in her vacant spot next to Ron – who is looking quite red-faced himself, though that might have something to do with the large bottle of firewhiskey he is waving in his hand.

"Heeeeyy, Lucyyy!" he slurs, sliding his free arm around Hermione's waist. "Howzit going?"

"Fine, thanks, Ron," I smirk. He cosies up to Hermione and tries to give her a kiss, but she covers his mouth with her hand and rolls her eyes at Ginny, who laughs. My eyes fall on Fred, who is sitting between George and Neville, and he winks at me. I grin back at him and slide into place beside Angelina, who gives me a warm hug.

"How you doing, girl?" she asks me, as I accept a butterbeer from George.

"Cool," I say, cracking open the top and taking a sip, feeling instantly refreshed.

"C'mon, then," George leans forward to spin the bottle again. "Let's see who's next."

"No," Hermione folds her arms. "I don't want to play anymore."

"Let's play something else," Ginny agrees, looking almost as embarrassed as Hermione. Harry grins at her and kisses her cheek. "I know," he says. "What about Sardines?"

"Sar. . . dines. . .?" Ron asks, hiccupping slightly. "Never. . . heard of it."

"It's a Muggle game," I explain. Being Muggle-born, I used to play it with my friends when I was little. "One person goes off to hide while the other people count. Then everyone has to try and find the hider, and when someone does they have to join them wherever they're hiding. Then the next person who finds them has to and it just goes on like that. The last person to find everyone has to be the one to hide next."

"Sounds good," Fred says. I glance at him and he flashes me a mischievous smile, to which I roll my eyes.

"I'm in," Ginny says.

"Me too," agrees George.

"Me three," says Angelina.

We all agree it sounds like a good game, and I'm elected as the first person to hide. While the rest of them stay in the living-room and count to fifty, I hurry into the hallway and up the stairs to the first floor. Even after the refurbishments, the house is still a little creepy. I find a large cupboard in a room on the second landing, and slip inside after checking it's not inhabited by a boggart or anything ghastly. When I hear, "READY OR NOT, HERE WE COME!" yelled from downstairs, I can't help but giggle. There was always something about Hide-and-Seek and other hiding games that always excites me. There's quite a large part of me that's wishing that Fred will be the first person to find me.

Me and Fred have always had a bit of a. . . 'thing' going on. We've never officially dated, but we've shared flirtations and even a few drunken kisses at student parties. He was originally going to ask me to the Yule Ball, but we got into a fight – he turned my teeth black as a practical joke – and so he asked Angelina instead. We see quite a lot of each other since he moved to Hogsmeade, as I work as a barmaid in _The Three Broomsticks_ – he and George are regular punters – but it's been a while since we spent any time alone together. And, yes, I'll admit it – I've got a considerably large crush on him.

I sit there in the dark for about three minutes before the door opens a crack. I squint against the light and see someone tall with ginger hair. Oh my God, it's Fred. Thank you, Jesus. "Room for a small one?" he smirks and squeezes in beside me.

"Frederick," I grin. "You are anything but small."

"You could've chosen somewhere a bit bigger," he says, squirming around to get comfortable. As his body brushes against mine, I feel my face flush and my heart start to thump.

"Guess you're right," I say. "Not gonna be much room if anyone else finds us, is there?"

"Right," he says and I feel him pull something from his pocket. "We'll have to remedy that, then." He taps the closed cupboard doors with his wand and mutters a sealing spell and a soundproofing spell. "There," he says smugly. "All sorted."

"You know—" I start to say, but I'm cut off by my mouth being stifled by Fred as he pressed his lips against mine. I close my eyes, despite the pitch blackness, and reciprocate.

"You were saying?" he says innocently when we break apart.

"I was saying," I say, trying to keep my composure. "That sealing spell only works for Muggles. Someone could easily just—"

"Shut up," he says and tries to kiss me again, missing by about two inches.

"That was my chin, genius," I laugh.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "Can I try again?"

"I dunno. . ." I say coyly. I find his shoulders in the darkness and move myself to I'm sitting astride his lap. A bold move, I know, but I'm feeling slightly risqué. His hands find my face and he kisses me again, slower this time, and I rest my hands against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath his shirt.

"Fred. . ." I say, keeping my lips only an inch or so from his.

"Yeah?" His hands wander down my back to rest on my waist, his fingers pushing slightly under my top to touch my skin.

"I've missed you," I whisper.

"I've missed you too, beautiful," he kisses me again and starts to push his hands further up my top, his fingers warm against my cool skin, until he reaches the edge of my bra. "Luce, can I. . .?"

"Mm-hmm," I nod and his fingers move to my back, making swift work of unhooking the clasp, the lacy material falling away, discarded to a corner of the cupboard. Fred presses his lips against the nape of my neck, softly kissing the skin there, followed by gentle bites and flicks of his tongue – all the while with his hand massaging my right breast, his other hand supporting the back of my head.

"Fred. . ." I moan, cupping his face in my hands and pressing my lips against the top of his head, closing my eyes and breathing in his familiar scent.

"Luce," he murmurs. "Can I touch you. . . there?"

I pause for a moment before nodding wordlessly. I feel his hands move down my body, leaving my top still ridden up around my underarms, and stop at the fly of my jeans. He slowly pulls down the zip, and I bite my lip while my heart begins to pound. I feel him pause when he reaches the lining of my underwear, but then he takes the plunge and his fingers finally touch my most sensitive place. I gasp and lace my fingers through his hair as he slowly slips his long middle finger inside me, his thumb gently massaging the pleasure-spot above it. He eases his index finger in alongside the other and begins to thrust them in and out, slowly at first but getting steadily faster as my whimpers of pleasure continue.

"F-Fred!" I gasp. I want to make him feel as good as he's making me, and lower my own hands to rest on the now obvious bulge in his jeans. I undo the fly and slip my hand passed the waistband of his boxers, my fingers touching the hardened flesh there. I hear Fred give an intake of breath and he buries his face in my neck again, speeding up the rhythm of his fingers a little more as I begin to pump his stiffened member in my hand.

"God! Luce. . ." he moans, his breath hot on my neck, and I pump a little harder, his erection twitching in my hand. He feels ready to come already, and I think I'm in the same boat. I've never had a full-out orgasm before, but I'm way beyond any level of pleasure I've yet experienced, so I'm guessing I'm close.

"Fred!" I cry out, and feel my inner walls contracting around his fingers, just as warm fluid spills onto my hand. We sat there for a while, breathing heavily, until we come slowly down from the sexual rush. Then, something I'd never been expecting happens. Fred plants a soft kiss on my lips and whispers, "Luce. . . I love you."

For a moment, I'm struck dumb. I don't know what to say – I never thought Fred would say that to me. But. . . thinking about it, is it such a surprise? I mean, we've been flirting with each other since Second Year, and kissed a good deal more than once. Plus we've just experienced our first sexual act together. I know Fred – he wouldn't do something like that with a girl unless he really meant it. He isn't the type to fritter his affection away to just _anyone_. And I can't help but wonder if, without realising it, I've gradually fallen for him as well. Just the thought of him makes me want to _sing_, and every time I see him my heart does somersaults and my heart turns into a drum. "Fred," I say. "I—"

"_Alohamora!_" Outside, I hear George's voice utter the reverse incantation to the sealing spell Fred cast earlier. I hurriedly tug down my top and fasten up my jeans, Fred doing the same. We're greeted by the entire group, all of them looking at us with great amusement.

"Guess you found us," Fred says.

"Well," George shrugs. "We figured you'd need at least fifteen minutes on your own."

That night, in one of the spare bedrooms, I lie in bed thinking of nothing but Fred. Everything about him – his face, his voice, his touch. . . especially the way he said those three elusive words. So it's no surprise that, when the door slowly creaks open, I sit up immediately, expecting it to be him. But it's only Angelina. "Hi," she says, walking over and sitting on the end of my bed. "So you wanna tell me what happened?"

As I relate to her the details of what occurred between me and Fred in the cupboard, her dark eyes grow wider and wider. "Wow, girl," she mutters. "Didn't know you had it in you."

"Shut up," I say, giving her a playful shove. "It was great, Ange."

"And what happened after?" It's almost as if she already knows about what he said.

"Well," I swallow. "Afterwards. . . he said. . . Ange, he said he loves me."

Angelina gasps and then squeals excitedly. "Oh, Lucy, wow! And what did you say?"

"I didn't get a chance," I say accusingly. "Some _people_ happened to butt in at that point."

She grins guiltily and clasps my hands in hers. "Oh, Luce," she gushes. "I'm so _happy_ for you. It was totally gonna happen sometime, wasn't it?"

"Was it?"

"Aw, c'mon, Luce," she says. "The two of you've had so much chemistry the past few years I'm surprised there hasn't been an explosion _way_ before tonight. Anybody could see he was nuts about you even in Second Year."

"You think so?"

"Lucy," she fixes me with a disbelieving stare. "The guy's just confessed his _love_ to you. You're in no position to speculate as to the contrary. Anyway, you've been totally in love with him since, like, _forever_."

"I. . . I know," I bite my nails. "But what if it was just. . . in the heat of the moment?"

"Did he say it before or after he came? Or during? If it was during then that's important."

"Why?"

"Well, George once called me Amy during an orgasm once. Most men will say anything when they come, they're so out of their heads."

"It was after," I say. "About twenty seconds after."

"Then he totally meant it," Angelina says. "He would have complete come down by then, right?"

"I. . . guess. . ." I say. A soft knock on the door makes us both jump, slowing opening to reveal. . . Fred, wearing nothing but a pair of loose pyjamas trousers.

"Well," Angelina claps her hands together. "I'll be off!" As she makes her hasty exit, she turns to me and mouths, "_Tell him!_" before pulling the door shut.

"H-hey, Fred," I say, holding my duvet up against my chest. I'm only wearing a crop-top and a pair of pyjama shorts.

"Hey, Luce," he smiles and walks slowly over to me, sitting down on the very edge of the bed. "How're you doing?"

"Umm. . . fine," I say. My mouth suddenly feels as dry as sand.

"Listen, Luce," his gaze falls to his hand resting on the duvet. "About what I said—"

"Did you mean it?" I cut across him. He's silent for a moment, before nodding slowly. I breathe out what feels like all the breath I've ever taken and lower my duvet, hoisting myself up onto my knees. I lean across and take hold of his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "I. . . I love you too, Fred," I say. His eyes widen and his face breaks out into a grin. "That's. . . awesome," he laughs and kisses me properly. "So, d'you want to, like, give this a go, then? You and me?"

"Yes," I smile, almost too widely. "And. . . there's something else, too. . ."

"What?" he says, bringing his legs up onto the bed and crossing them.

"Fred," I take a deep breath. "I want you to. . . to make love to me."

"R-really?" he stammers, looking astounded and shy – very un-Fred-like. Then the sparkle appears back in his eyes. "Cos I gotta warn you, Luce – you might not be able to take it."

"Oh yeah?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "You an expert or something?"

"Well. . ." he shrugs. "A couple of girls. . ."

"Oh," I look at my hands clasped in my lap. "Fred. . . you know I'm. . . I've never. . ."

"It's okay," he reaches out to me and takes my hands, looking right into my eyes. "I'll treat you right, I promise. Lie back, okay?"

Swallowing, I stretch my legs out and lie back down on the bed, Fred moving to his hands and knees, his palms flat on the duvet either side of my head. He leans down and kisses me, his hair brushing my cheeks as he does so. "You're beautiful, Luce," he whispers to me. I reckon that fact that he can say this when I'm in my pyjamas and no makeup proves it to be true. True for him, at least, which is all that really matters. "Raise your arms," he says, and I do so, allowing him to push my top up my body and over my head, throwing it aside. He takes a moment to stare at my naked chest, causing me to blush furiously.

"Fred. . ." I say, bashfully, crossing my arms over my exposed breasts.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "It's just. . . wow, y'know? You're perfect."

He lowers my pyjama shorts below my hips and down my legs. I kick them off to join my top on the floor. I'm now completely naked, and Fred's looking at me with such love in his eyes that I'm finding it hard not to throw my arms around him and never let go.

"You too," I say.

"Yeah." He gets to his feet and pulls down his pyjama trousers, revealing the part of him that I've never seen, but much wondered about. He climbs back on top of me and rolls us over so I'm on the top.

"Fred. . ." I say, a little nervously. "I don't know. . . if I'm on the top, then. . ."

"Don't worry," he says. "I just want to feel you on me. I might crush you if you're under me."

"Oh," I say, lowering my body so we're skin-on-skin. He's so soft and warm, so perfect. We kiss for a long time, his arms around me, until he sits up and moves me under him again. He opens the drawer beside my bed and pulls out a condom and a tube of lubricant.

"Did you _put_ those there?" I say, a little put out that he'd been _expecting_ to have sex with me.

"No," he says, smiling. "Ron mentioned he kept some in every room. Just in case."

"O-kay. . ." I say, shrugging. "Good old Ron."

Fred chuckles and I see him start to massage his lower region. I reach down as well and help coax it into full hardness, which doesn't take long. He expertly rolls on the condom and smears some of the lubricant over it, as well as around my own. . . private area, to make the first impact less painful.

"Are you sure?" he asks me as he positions himself. I nod and put my hands on his shoulders, closing my eyes as I feel him gradually enter me. It hurts at first – a strange burning, stinging sensation – but he takes regular pauses for me to adjust, kissing me all the while. By the time he's all the way in, I'm gasping and my mind feels glazed over with wanton desire.

"Fr-Fred!" I gasp as he begins to slowly move in and out of me. It still hurts a little, but there's also pleasure mixed in with it, especially when he reaches down with one hand to rub against that ultra-sensitive spot. I cry out and dig my fingers into his shoulders, throwing my head back against the pillows.

"Lucy. . ." he pants. I love it when he uses my full name and pull his head down to kiss him deeply, slipping my tongue between his lips to caress his. I can feel my whole body starting to go into spasm as I reach my peak, my legs trembling uncontrollably as Fred throbs inside of me and I see his handsome face contort into a wince of pure ecstasy. He presses his body against mine, being careful not to crush me, and breathes heavily against my neck, while I run my hands all over his face, his hair, his back.

"Wow," he laughs. "That was. . . wow."

"I think that pretty much sums it up," I say, cupping his cheek in my hand. He leans into the touch and kisses my palm. "I love you so much," he says, grinning down at me, his eyes twinkling.

"Ditto," I put my arms around his neck and pulls him down to lie beside me. He rests his arm across my abdomen and sighs contentedly. "You know," he says. "I normally last longer than that."

"It's okay," I laugh. "What happened this time?"

"Well," he says, propping himself up on his elbow. "I've been wanting to do that with you since we were fourteen, so I've got quite a bit of pent-up energy."

I cuddle up against him, burying my face in his chest, and he wraps his arms around me, kissing my forehead. I smile and close my eyes, drifting asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Suddenly, something comes into my mind.

"Fred?"

"Yeah?"

"I left my bra in the cupboard."


End file.
